


Terrible, Drunken Ideas

by InfectiousKpop



Series: Imaginings [5]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alcohol, Drunkenness, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Mistakes, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:46:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7551832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfectiousKpop/pseuds/InfectiousKpop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark was drunk. Not tipsy. Not pleasantly buzzed. But full on, blurry vision and tripping over his own feet drunk. Drunk enough to desperately want a tattoo. Drunk enough to decide he was going to go get one immediately. Drunk enough to not pay attention when Jackson tried to warn him otherwise. It was all Jackson's fault, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terrible, Drunken Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this exclusively on AO3, since it's going up unrevised. Please excuse any grammar and spelling errors.

Mark was drunk. Not tipsy. Not pleasantly buzzed. But full on, blurry vision and tripping over his own feet drunk. It wasn’t his fault that he’d gotten so wasted. It was clearly Jackson’s. He was the one who’d suggested they go out. He was the one that said they should have some celebratory shots. Clearly, his drunken state was all his boyfriend’s fault. At least, that’s what Mark told himself. He leaned against Jackson’s shoulder in the back of the cab, savoring how steady the other made him feel even though the world was spinning around him.

“Gaga, I want a tattoo,” he muttered. Jackson just chuckled in response, subtly squeezing the older’s hand to let him know he’d heard him.

It wasn’t the first time Mark told Jackson this. He’d actually wanted one for a long time now. But he’d never really been sure what to get or where to get it, especially with the taboo that still existed around permanently inking something on your body. He normally wouldn’t care what anyone else thought, but when his career depended on public perception, he had to be a little more cautious.

With alcohol flowing through his veins, though, all caution got thrown to the wind. “I’m serious,” Mark whined. “I wanna get one tonight.”

Jackson tensed up a little next to him, shifting just enough to knock Mark’s head off his shoulder. “You can’t just get a tattoo,” he said calmly. “You don’t even know what you want, remember?”

“I’m never going to know for sure,” Mark replied. “I’ve got a few ideas. Now I just need to go and get one.”

Silence passed between them as Jackson desperately tried to find a way to change the subject. Mark didn’t get drunk very often, but he’d done it enough times to where Jackson knew how insistent he got when he decided to do something.

“Okay, we’ll go tomorrow,” he said. “For now, let’s got home and get some rest.”

Mark shook his head violently. “No, I want to go now.”

Inside, Jackson panicked. He remembered the last time he’d tried to prevent Mark from doing something while he was drunk. He wanted to go backflip into the Han River (in the middle of winter), despite the rest of the group’s protests. When he threatened to go without the rest of the group, Jackson tried to physically hold him back, but Mark was too tricky and he weaseled his way out. He ran away with Jackson following closely behind him to make sure that the older didn’t hurt himself in the process. Luckily, by the time he got to the riverbank, he sat down to catch his breath and fell asleep.

This time, Jackson knew better than to try and force Mark not to go. He didn’t want him running off to some guy passing off an abandoned building as a hole-in-the-wall tattoo parlor only to come back with some disease from an unsterilized needle.

The younger sighed one more time as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, finding Jessi’s number quickly and hitting the call button. After a very quick catch up section, he asked for a recommendation for a good tattoo place nearby, telling her he’d explain everything later. Once he hung up, he quickly told the cab driver the new address, who just nodded and adjusted his route.

For the rest of the ride, Jackson couldn’t relax. All he could think of was how this all could go horribly wrong. Mark could very well return to the dorms with a neck tattoo or sleeves or the most ungodly pink Jigglypuff tramp stamp anyone has ever seen. If he did, it would all be Jackson’s fault. He was sober enough to know better. He should be trying to trick Mark into somehow falling asleep before he could do anything. But the crippling fear of the older rushing off on his own when Jackson wasn’t paying attention and coming back with something a million times worse than a tattoo took up too much of his mind to think of anything else.

Just before they arrived at the shop, Mark reached up and inspected the cross pendant hanging from Jackson’s neck. He was quiet for a moment, turning the ornate piece in his fingers as his eyes ran over every inch of it. It was a small, rectangular pendant that he’d gotten years ago. While it wasn’t one of his staple pieces of jewelry by any means, he’d worn it enough for people to recognize it when they saw it. He always chuckled when fans started speculating about some hidden significance it must have. The amount of ornate crosses he wore didn’t really mean anything beyond the fact that he liked how they looked, but who was he to spoil their fun?

Mark’s fingers fumbled along the small chain until he found the clasp and immediately started fiddling with it. “What are you doing?” Jackson asked, reaching up to shoo the others’ hands away.

“I’m borrowing it,” Mark answered matter-of-factly. He didn’t let his hands get pushed away, instead working even more diligently to undo the necklace’s clasp.

“Why? What do you need it for?” Jackson eyed Mark cautiously as the older finally managed to slip it off of Jackson. He carefully cupped the pendent in his hand like it was the most fragile thing he’d ever held, jumping out of the cab as soon as it stopped in front of the shop. Jackson almost chased after him before remembering someone needed to pay the cab driver.

By the time he got inside, Mark was already chatting animatedly with a stocky man with surprisingly fewer tattoos that Jackson had expected. He didn’t know what made him think that all tattoo artists were walking canvases filled to the brim, but the guy certainly was the exact opposite. Jackson wondered if he even had any more than the three or four small ones scattered on his arms.

The man handed Mark a clipboard with some paperwork, giving Jackson a quick nod as he approached before heading back behind the divider. Despite being almost drunk off his ass, Mark’s handwriting was still as almost legible as usual, which was impressive considering he could barely walk a straight line on his own.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jackson muttered, resting his head on Mark’s shoulder. “We could go find somewhere to have some fun instead.” They were alone for now, and Jackson thought maybe some intimacy could distract the older just enough to get him out of the shop.

But Mark was too clever. He pressed a quick peck on Jackson’s lips before a sneaky grin crept across his face. “I’m doing this and you can’t stop me.”

 

 

The mixture of an unbearable headache and the strange aching tingling on the back of his calf made Mark just want to curl back up under his covers. But his bladder protested, making him squirm out of bed to slip into the bathroom and relieve himself. It wasn’t until he was back in his room that he felt the weird feeling on the back of his leg again. Glancing back, he noticed a large bandage covering up most of the back of his left calf.

“Jackson,” he said automatically, not even bothering to look if the other was awake. The younger groaned, pulling the blanket up over his head. How the two of them ever managed to fit in Mark’s tiny upper bunk half the time, no one knew. “Jackson,” Mark said again as he moved to sit on the edge of what used to be Jackson’s bed, but was now more of a storage shelf than anything else.

It took Jackson a minute to muster up enough energy to untangle himself from the covers and crawl down the ladder onto the floor. Once he saw what Mark was peering at, though, he stood up straight, suddenly wide awake. “Shit,” he muttered.

“What?” Mark asked, looking up at Jackson with wide eyes.

“I was kind of hoping that was all just a weird dream…” Jackson trailed off.

“That what was a weird dream, Jackson?” Mark said a little more firmly. When he didn’t answer right away, Mark’s fingers moved to the bandage, picking at the corners as he tried to peel it off to see what was underneath.

“No no no!” Jackson interjected. “You can’t do that. They said you have to leave that on for six hours.”

“Who is they? You have to give me answers or I’m gonna take it off.”

With a sigh and a light smack to the face, Jackson sat down next to Mark on the bed overrun with gifts and random clothes he’d picked up during his travels. “You, uhm,” he said, “got a tattoo last night.”

“I what?” Mark looked just as shocked as Jackson thought he would.

“You got a little drunk and decided you wanted a tattoo,” he explained. “I tried to talk you out of it, but you know how you get when you’re wasted.”

Mark winced at the statement. He’d been reminded of how much of a pain he was almost constantly after the Han River incident. That wasn’t the first time he’d heard about his drunken stubbornness either.

“Do you know what it looks like?” he asked after a minute, nodding down at the bandage on his leg. Jackson just nodded, clearly not wanting to say much about it. “That bad?” That made Jackson open his mouth for a second like he was going to say something, but then he closed it again and shrugged.

A few more moments of silence passed, the two of them just sitting there. It wasn’t awkward. They’d gotten so far past any possible awkwardness between them that it almost seemed impossible to feel that way anymore. But it was a heavy silence, one filled with unanswered questions that never got asked.

After a while, Jackson scooped up Mark’s hand, lacing his fingers with the older’s and squeezing. “The thought behind it is beautiful,” he said, smiling. “You explained it as you were falling asleep last night. I really could’ve cried if I weren’t slightly terrified you’d puke all over me at any second.”

Mark rolled his eyes, catching on to Jackson’s dramatization immediately. “You could just tell me it’s ugly, you know,” he muttered. He thought about walking away, but he knew he’d have to find a pair of pants first. He wanted to sober up completely before having to explain his new ink. Jaebum would give him an earful, he already knew.

Jackson tightened his grip on Mark’s hand as the older stood up, preventing him from going more than a couple steps away. “It might not be the prettiest thing to look at, but I really do like the meaning behind it. And I’ll take full responsibility for it when you tell everyone.” He tugged at Mark’s arm, pulling the other down into his lap. “I was the sober one, after all. Or, more sober than you, at least.”

Mark smirked, leaning in to give Jackson a quick kiss before pulling back to stare at him. “Is there any point in me asking what the meaning behind it is?” he asked.

Jackson shook his head. “I want to see if you’ll be able to figure it out.”

“How long do I have to wait?” Mark reached up over the top of the bunk above them, grabbing his phone from under the edge of the mattress. They both glanced at the time on the screen as it lit up.

“Oh!” Jackson exclaimed. “I guess you can take it off now.”

Hand moving almost instinctively to his leg, Mark paused as he fingers touched the edge of the bandage. Part of him screamed to rip the thing off and see what was waiting for him. He’d wanted a tattoo and now he finally had one. But part of him was worried that it’d be the exact opposite of what he really wanted. Part of him knew that there was a very real possibility he’d gotten something very ugly permanently etched into his leg.

It wasn’t until he felt another hand, Jackson’s hand, wrap around his that he calmed down enough to take a deep breath. “It’s okay,” the younger said. “No matter what you think, there are ways to move forward.”

With Jackson’s hand and heart steadying him, Mark quickly ripped off the bandage and stared at what was hidden below. When his eyes finally focused on the huge filled in with ornate designs, he forgot how to speak. Speechless was an understatement.

“So?” Jackson asked after a moment, massaging the back of the older’s neck cautiously.

“I like the meaning behind it too,” Mark answered quietly, eyes still fixed on his leg.

“But?”

“But it’s huge and in a terrible spot and it’s just-” But the feeling of Jackson’s lips on his temple made him pause mid-ramble and sigh.

“It’s okay,” Jackson said. “We can fix it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I made a joke about this on Twitter, then a lot of people seemed to really be interested in the idea, so I wrote something up in my free time throughout the day. Like I said above, this is completely unrevised as of right now, so please don't criticize it too harshly. It's just meant as a bit of fun. ;)


End file.
